Horton glanced at the prison officer, who nodded, he didn’t have much to write of Garvard’s end of the conversation but he was hopefully noting Garvard’s gestures and his summary of the situation.
He said, ‘When she betrayed you to the police she knew she was safe from being implicated because if you uttered one word about her killing Ellie, she would tell the police where to find Ellie’s body and swear blind you’d killed her. There would be evidence on your boat of Ellie’s presence and probably witnesses who had seen you on the boat together or when you had put in somewhere. You’d be done for murder and fraud. So you said nothing. Better to be convicted for fraud rather than a longer sentence for murder. You did your time.’
‘Die doing it. . got my revenge,’ Garvard croaked. Despite the weakness of his voice Horton could hear the bitterness in it.
Garvard closed his eyes. Horton could see that soon he would drift into unconsciousness, possibly for the final time. But there was still much he needed to know. With new urgency he said, ‘How did you get Sharon to come back for the funeral? She was living in Spain. Did you know where?’
Garvard gave a slight shake of his head. Horton thought there was a small smile on his lips.
‘How did she hear that her aunt had died?’
Could Foxbury have kept in touch with her and told her? Or had Gregory Harlow known where Sharon was and told her, but why should he if Sharon wanted money from him? No, Gregory and Patricia Harlow had only placed an announcement in the local newspaper to let Amelia’s friends know about the funeral arrangements. And then it came to him. There was someone who could have contacted Sharon.
‘Fiona Wright.’
Garvard’s eyes opened and although the man didn’t speak, Horton saw that he was right. Keenly he pressed on, as his mind scrambled to put together the pieces. ‘While undergoing your radiotherapy treatment you saw Amelia Willard at the hospital, she was also there for her radiotherapy treatment.’ Horton didn’t know this for a fact yet, but he was ready to stake his career on it, and the fact that somehow Garvard had got Fiona Wright involved.
‘You struck up a relationship with Fiona Wright. You pumped her for information on Amelia.’
He reckoned that Garvard had wanted to know about Amelia’s cancer and the prognosis. Perhaps he’d even seen Patricia Harlow with her aunt. ‘You extracted a promise from Fiona Wright that when Amelia died she would get a message to Sharon and the only way she could do that — if it’s true you didn’t know where Sharon was living — was by placing announcements about the death in the national newspapers, or the Spanish ones, or both, hoping that Sharon would see it and act on it.’
‘Telegraph. Sharon always read it,’ Garvard replied falteringly. ‘Knew wouldn’t be able to resist. . money involved.’
And that would be simple to check. Horton let out a breath, it was beginning to come together, but he still had more questions. He sat forward on the edge of the chair. ‘You had also arranged for Woodley to kill Sharon but it went wrong. Did Woodley refuse once he was on the outside? Did he get a message back to you inside that he’d changed his mind, and that he’d only agreed to it to get Stapleton off his back, the staged attack on Stapleton suited all three of you. So you had to arrange for someone to take him out? And someone to kill Sharon in the same place she killed and left Ellie Loman, because you wanted Ellie’s bones to be found. Who did you pay to kill Sharon and leave Daryl Woodley for dead after they’d bungled the first attack on him? Reggie Thomas? Or was it one of Marty Stapleton’s gang on the outside?’
Horton saw a smile touch the dying man’s face. He’d got it wrong. Damn. He could see Garvard slipping away. Urgently he pressed on, ‘Who killed Sharon, Leo?’
Garvard was deteriorating fast, the door opened and an angry nurse hurried in.
‘No more. You must leave now.’
Horton was desperate. He glanced at the prison officer, who shrugged. The nurse glared at him. Ignoring her, Horton addressed the dying man. ‘Leo, who killed Sharon?’
‘Inspector, please,’ the nurse demanded.
Horton rose. There was nothing more he could do. He turned to leave when a sound came from the bed. He spun round.
‘Got even with her,’ Garvard croaked. ‘Found Ellie. . See her soon. . loved her. .’ He slipped into unconsciousness.
Disappointed, Horton left. Outside he asked the prison officer to sign the bottom of each page of notes and give them to him.
‘I didn’t get much of what you said, Inspector, but I got a few of the points you made and Garvard’s comments and reactions. Hope you can read my writing.’
‘It’s better than mine.’
He was glad to get out in the fresh air even though it didn’t feel fresh. The day had turned sour and the sun was skulking behind a menacing dark sky. Elkins’ prediction of thunder looked like being fulfilled any moment. His head was pounding as he called up a patrol car and while waiting for it he paced the busy road chewing over the interview. Something Garvard said, or rather how he’d said it, struck him. It was those last words. Found Ellie. Did that mean he hadn’t known where her body had lain all these years or that by arranging to have Sharon killed there the police would discover Ellie’s remains? It had to be the latter, surely. And he had a sinking feeling that they would never discover who had killed Sharon Piper especially if Garvard had hired a professional killer via Stapleton’s contacts to do it. And Stapleton was never going to tell.
He continued to mull this over as the patrol car drove him back to Fishbourne, where the police launch was waiting for him. Garvard had known that Sharon would return for her aunt’s cremation and had organized, through Fiona Wright, an announcement to be placed in the Daily Telegraph but neither he nor Fiona Wright could have arranged for Woodley’s funeral to be held on the same day, and none of the Woodley crowd had any involvement in the arrangements either. So was that just one of life’s coincidences? It seemed to be.
Horton knew that Fiona Wright hadn’t killed Sharon Piper because Dr Clayton had given her a lift home. So if the killer wasn’t Gregory Harlow, Reggie Thomas, Harry Foxbury or a hired hit man then who else could it be? Think like Garvard, he urged his sluggish brain. Why would Woodley need that photograph of Sharon Piper? What was Woodley’s purpose if it wasn’t to kill Sharon? If Garvard knew that Ellie’s bones were at Tipner Quay then who else would he enlist to kill Ellie’s murderer? Then he had it. Kenneth Loman.
Woodley had never been Sharon’s intended killer, he was Garvard’s messenger boy. He was to make contact with Kenneth Loman and tell him that Sharon knew something about his daughter’s disappearance and that she was returning for her aunt’s funeral. Yes, that fitted. Loman wouldn’t have known what Sharon Piper looked like, hence the need for the photograph. Woodley had probably told Loman that he had information indicating that Tipner Quay was significant and was probably the last place anyone had seen Ellie alive. Yes, he rapidly thought. Once Woodley had delivered his message all Loman had to do was scan the local newspaper every day until the announcement of Amelia Willard’s funeral appeared, go to the crematorium and tell Sharon that unless she agreed to meet him at Tipner Quay he would go to the police. She agreed but she probably had no intention of telling Loman she’d killed Ellie. Or perhaps she told him it was accident or she tried to pin the blame on Garvard.
Loman, distraught, angry and motivated by revenge, stuck that knife in Sharon Piper’s back. He could easily have walked to the boatyard to meet her, not wanting to be seen, and then driven her car away and dumped it, after killing her. And Loman could also have killed Gregory Harlow because Harlow had arrived at the boatyard as arranged with Sharon and seen Loman. That meant Loman would have had to cross to the Isle of Wight by ferry, and perhaps Gregory Harlow had picked him up. Loman could have fabricated some story to convince Harlow they needed to talk. But Horton frowned with puzzlement. It fitted except for two things. He could swear that Loman’s reaction to the news that they’d found his daughter’s remains was genuine grief. And, secondly, he just couldn’t see Loman prising open Harlow’s jaw and making him swallow drugs and drink. But if Loman was their killer then the person who Sharon had spent the afternoon with eating lobster and drinking white wine had nothing to do with her death.